Wrong Place

She was inquisitive, and that was an admirable feature, especially in young women in this day and age, where many still considered one’s beauty to overtake brains in terms of importance. But to each their own taste, he assumed, even as he allowed her words to soak through the initial layer of his skull, words like a constantly dripping tap as it mixed with his own thoughts.

Had people thought about self-discovery in those days?

“Almost certainly,” the man replied, nodding with gentle conviction. “People have been curious about the human mind and condition since the beginning of time, I’d assume, or at least since we’ve been capable of relatively complex thought.”

Was art in and of itself not an expression of such a thing? If art were not an attempt to gain insight on the human emotions or life, then what was it truly? This conversation had certainly taken a philosophical turn, and that simple thought drew a smile across faded good looks. Although the topic shifted back to languages, his kind smile did not budge.

“I think every language has a beauty of its own, although some are more difficult to find than others,” the New Zealander commented, shrugging in slight. “That, and as native English speakers, it could be that it’s rather easy to be disenchanted with what is spoken daily.”

Ophelia nodded along in interest, fingers toying and twirling with a sugar packet on the bright plastic of the table. It was an indication of her nerves and uncertainty. These weren’t her topics, give her something technical and she could go on for hours without losing any confidence. She supposed forcing it was the only way to feel okay in the subjects she didn’t know.

“Do you think it was in the same way that we might? Some people do gap years, or they try on different versions of themselves with their outfits, hair, make up..” She paused for a moment, “Because things were stricter back then and maybe the options we take these days weren’t really acceptable. There must have been the start of psychology and all of that which is more of a technical side, but that’s not really what makes a person.” 

Ophelia gave a slow nod of understanding, agreeing. “That’s true. I’m probably numb to it, like when you read a passage and it means everything, so you go back to it and the second time its still nice but its not the same and downhill from there.”

“Art? Hm… I don’t know” he shrugged “Maybe”. He mulled over, for a moment but couldn’t really imagine himself doing something artistic. “I’m going to start with reading more and when I say reading more, I mean that I haven’t opened a book in ages, and maybe… take cooking classes. That could come in handy”.

“It’s something new, right?” That was all that mattered, he could give it up after a week if he hated it, but ever the optimist Ophelia figured he might find something he loved if he gave it the chance. “You could do pottery, or sculpture.” She added to the suggestion. “Readings good, you should definitely start there. I’ve a stack of ‘to be read’ at mine.” ‘Mine’ of course being Eden. “Oh Owen, tell me you’re not living off take out?” 

“Fantastic then, I can show you around.” He smiled. At this rate, she was probably wondering why the hell he needed to hire a date and was fearing the worst. Dimitri was good-looking, rich, charming – something had to be wrong with him. The worry would hopefully be put at east when she started having a good time. “ I do, actually – when I first arrived here I was somewhat of a resident until I found a place of my own.” He admits as the wander deeper in. “I’m afraid that the luxury of this place was like no other – it called to me as I enjoy my creature comforts decadently. It reminds me almost of a casino I visited in Monaco – charming place.” He bragged slightly, but it was less to impress and more about a fond memory for him.

“Would you like to wander around the casino floor a bit? I can’t say much for my skills as a poker player , nor yours, but I’ve heard it’s good fun to gamble with someone else’s money.” He chuckled. “ Unless you’re famished and would rather get some dinner first? The choice is yours, my dear.” 

Ophelia half laughed, glancing his way momentarily with a grateful smile before returning her attention to her surroundings. She was incredibly relieved to hear he’d actually lived here, rather than it being some sordid place where he brought girls like her to use and leave, separate from a wife or something along those lines. “How does it compare to your own house?” Her brows raised at the mention of the foreign city, impressed beyond belief even though it must have been relatively common for some. “You went to Monaco? It looks beautiful there.” Ophelia wished she had more to offer him but she doubted they had much in common. “My friend went there once to watch the Grand Prix.” 

Her blue eyes widened at his offer, biting her bottom lip to hinder the grin.  “Really? Can we?” She looked to the casino, wanting to go in. She’d spent a lot of time in casinos since she arrived but none of that time had been actually at one of the famous casinos that people went on about in movies. Ophelia slipped her hand down and into his hand. “You know I’ve not been in a casino yet. Not even on a slot machine.” 

Lost in his head and the music on his run, Jason’s instincts kicked in when he sensed somebody else running up beside him, glancing to the side and seeing a young woman smirking at him in a silent challenge. Unable to resist a gauntlet being thrown down Jason smirked back, and began to pick up a little more speed. Casually pulling his earbuds out and folding them into his pocket, his attention right now was fully on this competitor.

When the man took up the competition and pulled his headphones out she giggled loudly and pushed herself a little harder. Running was only a casual thing for her so starting a challenge was silly, but she wasn’t going to quit until she felt her legs crying they might fall off. “Is that all you’ve got?” She spoke evenly, making sure her breath didn’t sound laboured from the effort. 

“Then I think my parents would have loved to have you as their child” he laughed “Especially my mom. But to come back to ballroom classes, if you want to do it you should. I’ve been trying to find new hobbies as well. Hopefully I’m going to have more free time from now on. Do you have suggestions?”

“I’m sure they’re thrilled to have you.” Ophelia corrected, his activity as a child had clearly translated well into his success. “Maybe I will.” She’d have to have a look at timings, back home at least dance classes tended to be in the evenings which was when she was booked up with things she didn’t want to mention. “Uh, you could take up some type of art? Or a sport, tennis or something?” 

One corner of Cillian’s mouth quirked upward at her immediate prickly response. His question had been a general expression of dismay at finding her in his personal space, but he processed that she might feel out of place here. “Of course,” he said blandly. “Very important… computer… person these days, I’m sure.” He shrugged a shoulder, hands in the pockets of his jeans. “About as much effort as the occassion deserves. Quite sure there is no one here I need to impress. Might as well protect my good suits from the local drunks.”

Ophelia disliked his smile, there was never any warmth to it, no sincerity or kindness. No surprise when it came to them speaking, of course. “I’m someones date,” She clarified, but that still counted as invited. “But at least I’m not working.” It was a lie of course, and she desperately hoped that no one that had used her before would recognise her and give the truth away to him. She’d never live it down. “You don’t think a do like this deserves choosing something slightly nicer? Which really doesn’t take much effort at all.” 

“Yes, really.” He responded with a kind smile. Whoever deemed it that a woman could be treated like she was nothing just because of her profession was mistaken, and an idiot in Dimitri’s book. The doll-faced blonde seemed to agree as she looked over the simple gesture with a gentle flush on her cheeks, making Dimitri feel accomplished. “ My, how delicate you are.” He noted as her fingers brushed the flower. “I’ll have to take extra care with you tonight to make sure you wont be broken.” He teased, offering his arm to Ophelia before leading her towards his car.

 He’d gone through the motions leaving nothing out – opening her door for her and closing it once she sat comfortably inside, making pleasant conversation over light jazz playing in the background while they drove to their destination, and once again opening her door when they arrived. He opted for a one-stop date, pulling up to the Maverick where he’d already reserved a large suite for later in the evening and made a reservation in one of the larger restaurants, class above all. “Have you ever been here before?” He asked once they cleared the doors to the casino and wandered inside. “ I have to say , it’s one of my favorites.”

Ophelia gave a happy, almost childlike in innocence, laugh at his comment. A tongue touched smile stayed, naively feeling pleased that she had a client that was recognising something the others hadn’t, and seemingly intended to be gentle with her. She’d grown to understand destruction of innocence was a thing for some, and it could single her out for the more unpleasant evenings. She took his arm with no lingering doubt over his character, and no worries for the next part of the evening.

Things in the car had been easy, and he was making a surprising amount of effort considering she was a sure thing. Ophelia appreciated it, to the point that she could so easily pretend that this was a proper date and actually enjoy herself. “I haven’t, no.” She responded, looking around the hotel that was far too fancy for her to ever afford. “It’s breathtaking though, I can see why you like it.” Everything looked so ornate, she didn’t want to touch a thing lest she break it. “Do you stay here often?”

“Hip hop. They wanted me to do ballroom but I managed to convince them. It didn’t last more than a year though, it wasn’t really my thing. After that… if I remember correctly, I tried swimming. I had plenty of energy to burn ”. He shrugged as if to say oh well, they tried. “You’re fine by the way but if you didn’t take dance lessons, did you have any after school activities?”

“Oh I couldn’t do hiphop, I do not have the rhythm for that.” She laughed, pulling a face, certain that was obvious already. “Aw, I’d have liked to have done ballroom! It looks so romantic and beautiful. Maybe I’ll take classes now.” Ophelia hadn’t been a majorly energetic kid like Owen clearly had been, “I was a bit of a dork, I was in the chess club, played warhammer, lots of computer stuff too.”

“That’s fine by me” he nodded as he began moving playfully to the music. He was no Michael Jackson but wasn’t completely uncoordinated either, and even if it were the case, he was having too much to really care. “I took classes when I was younger” he started, attempting to make small talk “That didn’t last long though”.

Ophelia had always felt a little awkward dancing, but in her early twenties she discovered that dancing for fun was more enjoyable than looking cool or sexy, and hadn’t looked back after that. She tucked her hair behind her ear and started to move in time with him, slightly more exaggerated. “Oh? What kind of lessons? I didn’t take any, if that wasn’t already obvious.”

“You got it” he laughed “I’m not even sure how to charleston anyway”. He held an arm out and led her to the dance floor. He really enjoyed her company and to some extent, he thought they could be friends. It was easier than getting back on the dating scene. Things had changed so much and if he was being honest, Owen didn’t think he was that good at approaching women. "Alright, show me what you got”.

Ophelia laughed, head tipping back airily. “Neither do I, lets not attempt it.” She grinned, taking his arm and letting herself be taken away. “Oh god, no pressure.” She said with a playful eye roll and a smirk. Ophelia hoped he wasn’t expecting some stripper moves here, that certainly would not be happening no matter how much he was willing to pay. Not in public, maybe in the bedroom.

“See, it works! Life goals are set, we just need to find a way to magically become rich now. It’ll work out, promise.” H.T. grinned and shrugged. He imagined that he would never be rich. Maybe one day he could at least finish high school officially. That was about the extend of his ambitions at the moment, even though he knew deep down that he couldn’t be an escort forever. Eventually he wouldn’t be young and attractive. He had read enough literature to know the dangers of aging.

“Cooking, huh? Maybe you can show me something sometime. It’s so hard.” He lit up when she mentioned history. “History is great! I read so many books about history. What’s your favorite time period?” Maybe she didn’t know it, but Ophelia was seeing a glimpse of the real H.T., the one that enjoyed reading Austen and Hemingway, and the one that had a playlist of early 80′s soft-rock.

“There’s always the lottery!” Ophelia pointed out, gesturing her hand toward him. Of course it was a long shot, but then again, so was this dream they were imagining. It still felt good to imagine though, and it was only right that it was with him. She had the idea that if she ever got out and made a decent amount after paying the debts, she’d try and help him out too, if that was something he would accept. 

“I’d love to! We should totally take over the kitchens at home. I’m not the best cook, but I can make some. And desserts, those are so fun to make.” Ophelia hadn’t had the idea so far, but she’d been gifted a big, expensive kitchen with a whole lot of equipment she’d love to get her hands on. “We have to.” She resolved with a nod. “Oh, hm. Maybe the renaissance? That was all so beautiful. What about you?” 

“Really?” he smiled “I’m glad”. He took a sip of champagne as his gaze drifted towards the rest of the crowd. It was fun, that much he had noticed a while ago but after Ophelia’s confession, he wanted to make it about her as well. “We might as well make the most of it then. Would you like to dance?”

Ophelia gave a wide eyed, stupidly pleased nod. Owen was a nice guy and surely didn’t actually need to pay for a date, but he did anyway and in the pessimist side of her mind she imagined it made him feel better that she wasn’t faking anything so far. “I’d love to dance, so long as you don’t try and make me charleston in this dress.”

Cillian was enjoying this party as much as any other, which is to say he wasn’t. He’d wandered away from his date – the pretty detective was one positive to the evening – in search of something stronger than champagne, artfully dodging around anyone looking inclined to start a conversation. He stopped short as he nearly walked into someone he recognized. It had been a few years since he’d been back to his hometown to teach at Oxford, but it seemed Ophelia Bancroft was still continuing to follow him around like the plague. She’d been studying something he had no interest in – something techy – and yet they’d run into each other with unnverving frequency. Cillian didn’t get along well with most people. He hadn’t gotten along well with her. He grimaced. “Equally thrilled. Why are you here.”

Ophelia couldn’t quite believe that this was happening, her entire university stint had been dotted with Cillian, and she was certain that every time he had ruined her mood and her day. “I was invited.” She said pointedly, lips pursed in disapproval. He’d always been haughty and self-important, but Ophelia refused to feel worse about her upbringing. He might have meant in Vegas, but she’d grown defensive over the years, and that was a story she wasn’t willing to share with him. “I see you’re making an effort as always.” She glanced at down his casual clothes, wanting to roll her eyes at how he thought himself above it all.